


Electric Sheep

by macabre



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabre/pseuds/macabre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Robert is a very special dreamer; Eames is the researcher studying him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electric Sheep

“Robert? Robert, can you open your eyes for me?” He does so – and his unnaturally blue eyes startle him every time. They are – ironically – the color of dreams themselves. They will never cease to amaze or haunt him. “Do you want to sit up now?”

“Yes, thank you, Eames.” The way he says his name still sounds a little forced, a little too rehearsed. It’s not something he’s broken him of yet.

They move together until Robert is sitting ramrod straight in his seat; Eames stays slouched over in his horrible posture. Clicking his pen, he begins writing. Robert looks far off, blinking steadily and trying to wet his lips by chewing on them softly – a habit he’s repeating, learned from Eames himself.

“There was a beach,” he starts. Eames sighs. He’s heard this one before, and not just from Robert. “Except it wasn’t sandy. There were pebbles, and it was cold.” There were children – “in rain boots –“ Eames begins doodling in the corner of his page. “And they’d rush into the waves and back again before the big ones would come in.”

The theme of the children is something programmed into all of them. Their innocence – the drive to protect it. To prove that they themselves have innocence and are worth saving.

“Except one got a little boy. He didn’t run fast enough.”

“But he got back up?” Eames always asks. The first time, it had seemed important to do so – now he knows the answer, but imagines all the other possible answers instead.

“Yes, his sister helped him.”

Eames clicks his pen once more, smiling at Robert. He may be his last, after all. Most of the others like him have been shut down, gone and buried. Robert is the last of his kind, and Eames will keep him as long as they let him. He’ll keep him as a companion, if he can.

“Lovely,” he says, patting Robert’s arm and standing. “We’ll have another go tomorrow, then?”

“Whatever you wish.” His pupils constrict, just the tiniest wince as Eames pulls the modified tube out. It’s more of a cable really. He gently rubs the spot where it was in the back of his neck. Robert blinks. “Shall I retire?”

“No Robert, you’re coming with me.” Eames takes him by the hand, just in case. When they exit the building however, the guard doesn’t seem too bothered. “I’ll have him back tomorrow. Promise!”

On the streets, Robert continues to clutch his hand, and if people give them a strange look, they quickly avert their eyes upon closer inspection of Robert. The path of oncoming walkers widens to avoid them. “Eames, where are we going?”

He smiles back at him, at all his too beautiful to be real features. “To live, my friend. I’m going to show you how to live.”

The convertible sports car they drive out of the city isn’t his; Eames borrows it from his good friend from back in the day – Dom Cobb, who transferred departments years ago when it became clear to most the world that what they were jointly pursuing was a dead end. When Dom sees who’s with him, he merely raises an eyebrow, to his credit. “What’s he doing out?”

“An experiment!” Eames nudges Dom, eyeing the car keys in his hand. Dom just stares his friend down. “Aw, come on. I know you feel the same way about them as I do. They deserve more. How can they be expected to dream when they see only what we want them to see?”

“They deserve something,” Dom hands him the keys. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to do with him, still.”

Squeals of childish delight behind them. Phillipa and James run around the corner and into his legs. They grin hugely at Eames, eyeing the figure beside him. “Is he the one you used to work with, Daddy?” The little girl moves to stand before Robert. Robert merely looks down at her, no emotion on his face. Dom looks pained by the question.

“Phillipa, this is Robert,” Eames introduces them. Robert crouches down to her level and offers his hand. She shakes it. He silently thanks Dom for teaching his children proper humanity.

“It is my pleasure you meet you,” Robert remarks. He sounds the same when speaking to her, Eames notes. James shyly peeks up at the stranger from under his bangs.

“Can you lift a car over your head?” He asks in his high-pitched voice. Dom snorts, Eames chuckles, and Robert tilts his head. “Or a train?”

“Baby, that’s not his function.” Dom picks him up and rests him on his hip. Turns back to his friend. “I’ll see you whenever you get back?”

Eames leads Robert with a gentle hand at his neck, tracing the raised bump there. “Maybe you’ll see your car again. Maybe not!”

So with the top down and driving recklessly fast around sharp, seaside curves, Eames takes Robert to the beach. A real beach. With sand and bathing suits. They look a bit strange there, both dressed in dark suits. It’s warm enough Eames is slightly uncomfortable, even after he sheds the jacket, but Robert of course doesn’t react to the sun. He does copy Eames in taking off the jacket and tie, however. He reaches for Eames’ hand; the man worries that Robert is uncomfortable, so he squeezes the cool hand in his.

“Why are we here?” Robert asks. He’s never looked so lively; his hair is a tangled mess from the ride and still blowing in the breeze even now, and his cheeks look faintly pink. His eyes are the same as ever. They could never be any more or any less.

“I thought you might want to see a real beach.”

“But I have seen a real beach.” Eames ducks his head at this; no, he thinks, you’ve only seen the programmed images of a beach. It’s like watching one on the telly but never making the short trip to actually visit one, even though it’s never far. He takes the hand in his and spreads it flat against the sand.

“Feel that?” He asks, hoping that this won’t damage him later. His skin is so different from his – it’s smoother, colder, lighter. Even more delicate.

“Of course.” But he doesn’t feel it, not really. Eames drops his hand and leans back. Robert watches him. “I’m sorry; have I displeased you?”

Eames smiles sadly. “No darling. Not at all.” Robert curls into his side and Eames lets him stay there, wondering about tomorrow. Will tomorrow be their last day? They were numbered long ago. Robert’s existence has always been an injustice, and there was never much he could do about it except treat him as if he had a life to live.

After the beach they go to a typical diner and Robert watches him eat two burgers and a chocolate shake. His curious eyes stayed glued to his lips; Eames feels faintly warm again. On the way back to the city, Eames lets Robert drive. He teases him and teases him to no avail – Robert drives perfectly at the speed limit and obeys all traffic laws. He can’t help it.

“What am I going to have to do to get you to live a little?” It starts out as a rhetorical question as they park the car very safely in a designated space, but the way Robert glances over at him makes his mouth go a little dry. Beauty like that isn’t supposed to exist.

“There’s one thing I’ve always wanted to do.” Robert takes his hand again. His look is merely curious, but it’s enough to drive the other man a little wild. “I’ve dreamt of it before.”

Eames frowns; they’ve been to the beach already today. There’s nothing ever unusual in Robert’s dreams, after all, and Eames knows all of them. He had thought he knew where Robert was going with the suggestion – now he’s not so sure.

“Which dream?”

Robert’s face ticks; he’s never smiled fully. Eames isn’t sure he was made to because a lot of engineers preferred them not to smile; they were afraid of frightening people by giving them something so blatantly emotional. Robert tries anyway. That’s what makes him so special to Eames. “The one where you kiss me.”

Eames is equally caught up in the shock that Robert _wants_ to kiss him, because he isn’t built to want anything, and the fact that he says he’s dreamt about it. He’s either lying about it, which doesn’t matter in the slightest because he would be _lying_ , or he’s lying to him about his dreams during their sessions. He’s trying to process which scenario is most likely, but his mind is fuzzy from a long, warm afternoon in the sun with such a handsome companion that he’s dreamt about, but never the opposite way around. Robert doesn’t dream of specific people, just people. He doesn’t even dream about himself. Or so he thought.

“So you had a dream,” Eames starts. And stops. Frowns. “Where we kissed. Specifically, we. Us two.” He motions between their bodies. Robert slides closer, and closer, until he’s sitting in his lap. He’s been there once before, during a break down, when his body wouldn’t or couldn’t move and Eames thought he was finished for. Burnt out. Going to the junk pile for good.

Now Robert pins him to the passenger seat, his face just as carefully composed as ever. His free hand finds Eames’ other hand, and he just sits there for a moment, staring down at him. He parts his lips and wets them – Eames jolts – and squeezing both of his hands painfully hard, leans in.

“Yes. I had a dream like that,” Robert whispers when he backs away after a short second. “Except you were the one kissing me.”

Eames stares in shock at Robert’s lips. Ridiculously full lips. Who gave him those lips? “Right. Well. I can fix that.” He wiggles his fingers free of Robert’s grip and puts them in his hair; it’s real. They gave them all real human hair.

He leans up and in, and this time doesn’t let him pull away so fast. If he’s going to do this, give in to the worst and most unforgivable temptation, then he’s going to do it properly.

“Now that’s a proper kiss,” he tells the man in his lap. Robert looks thoughtful. Eames feels ill. This isn’t part of his job.

But what’s the most human experience?

“It was better than the one in my dream.”

Eames laughs. “They usually are.” Running a hand through Robert’s hair still, he quickly sobers up. This is has to be some sort of abuse or misuse. Fuck. Eames has crossed a lot of boundaries in his time, but this may be the worst of them.

“You’re unhappy.” With Eames already touching him, Robert takes it as invitation to explore the contours of his companion’s features. His touch is light, like a feather. How anyone is fearful of him is beyond Eames.

Something is breaking in his heart though. He collapses forward, hugging Robert, his head under his chin. “Tell me about your dream.”

Robert freezes; it’s like literally watching a computer search for a certain file. He breathes again: “We weren’t in a car. At least, I don’t think so. I can’t really remember where we were, or what I was doing until I saw you. That’s all I remember. You were suddenly there. Standing right next to me as if you’d always been there. You asked me if I knew what I was, and I replied yes. Then you took my hand like you often do. And kissed me.”

He looks to Eames like a child looking for acknowledge that what they did was right; Eames is almost certain he is lying. This is not something he ever dreamt. But why is he lying about it? Robert doesn’t have desires; he would hardly know the meaning of the word.

Robert is doing exactly what he thinks Eames wants him to do. This is the only solution. He blinks, slowly grabbing the hands on him and pulling them away. He smiles tightly at Robert’s questioning look. “I think I should get you back.”

“Can’t I stay with you?” He can only imagine Robert in his apartment; wandering around the living room, watching him eat in the kitchen, sitting stiffly on his bed. It’s a bad idea, but one he’s thought about often. Eames is Robert’s last ally. If the order comes to dispose of him, he will gladly take him in, if allowed, and then he’ll have no choice but to keep him at his apartment. He’ll do it gladly because there should be someone like Robert left out there.

So he says: “Yes. You can stay.” Robert’s face ticks again. He crawls off his lap and crawls over the side of the car instead of opening the door. He waits patiently for Eames, but immediately grabs his hand once he’s out of the car.

As they enter his building, Eames can’t stop thinking about Robert’s lies. It should be a warning to him; it certainly would be taken seriously by anyone else. Isn’t this how the downfall starts? How the stories go? The intelligence given to them eventually backfires; Eames and other men one day will be obsolete. That day could be tomorrow. But could he stand aside if someone tried to take Robert away now? If they wanted to harm him or take him apart? He’s done it before, watched the others go downstairs or to the junkyards, but he doesn’t have the heart to watch it happen again.

As predicted, once in his living quarters Robert has no idea what to do. He follows Eames around, keeping a precise but short distance between them. As he strips from his clothing, Robert unflinchingly watches and does the same. It’s almost perverse. The act alone should mean something, but it can’t. Robert doesn’t know what it should mean. Eames flinches because he knows the kiss was just a calculated action.

He’s seen Robert’s figure naked before; they come packaged without any clothing, and usually they’re not given anything as complete as a suit. Now he’s standing there in underwear someone gave to him, watching Eames’ own face while he stands similarly dressed. When he crawls into the bed, he doesn’t have to watch his companion follow. He just lifts the covers for him and feels him lie stiffly beside him.

A hand takes his. A moment later and he can hear his breathing stop – the little noises that make him run stop. His hand is always cold, but now it feels icy. Eames drops it and rolls away from him. He’s not sure he can do this: if his options are to either let someone tear through Robert and destroy the beautiful craft of him or keep him and have only half a companion, then he’s simply not sure. There are things Robert will never be able to share or do or think or feel – no matter how Eames dreams of it.

It’s the only dream he has.

In the morning, it’s the news he’s expecting. They’ve known it was coming all along; that’s why Cobb left when he did. The department shrunk and left only Eames standing. They dismantled all of the models like Robert and left the pieces scattered across the city.

“I’m sorry.” Saito is here for a press conference of some kind; it’s the only reason he’s giving him the news in person. “We’re reassigning you to dream therapies for pre-adolescents.” He glances over Robert, getting unnecessarily close to him like a specimen under the microscope. “At least, I think you’ll find it more stimulating. More rewarding.”

Eames doesn’t bother arguing. “You’ve received my formal request?”

Saito laughs. “About keeping the robot.” He knocks at Robert’s chest. The deceptively soft looking skin there _clangs_. A hollow noise echoes to mock him. Robert looks emotionless. Like he’s shut off already. “You know I can’t let you keep him. It’d be against all company policy to keep such technology outside.”

Eames notices a flicker in the corner of his eye, but he’s missed Robert’s delicate reaction. “But you’ll at least leave him alone? In one piece?”

The boss shrugs. “If you like, we can save his model for storage.” He glances around the room – it’s a mess. His doodles are spread along the tables. “I assume you know the procedure?”

“Yes.” How could he not?

Eames leads Robert by the hand all the way down to the basement. He’s been there a scant few times – Robert never. He glances around his new surroundings, tripping on the back of Eames’ feet. He drops his hand to grab hold of his shirt and presses himself into his back. “Eames, I don’t want to leave you.”

“I know, darling.”

They finally find the right door. It slides open and they stand silently outside for a long minute. The lights flicker on overhead automatically. He feels Robert press his face into his back. A face with no discernable emotion.

“Please don’t.”

Eames turns to him. “I promise I won’t leave you down here forever. I’ll come back for you.”

“I didn’t function to my full capabilities.”

“No darling. You did everything you were built to do.” He touches his face where the skin could be his own. “And more.”

“I did not please the dreamers.”

“You weren’t built to dream, or have a consciousness, but then you fooled us for a split second into thinking that maybe we had outsmarted ourselves.” We haven’t, not yet. “And now we’re not sure what to do with you.” Because most of the world isn’t ready for you. “So now, you sleep. And when you wake up, I’ll be here.” Maybe then we’ll be ready.

They’ve entered the room and walked to the opposite wall, Eames leading by hand once more. Robert can’t resist, one of the handy traits implanted into his personality. Along the wall are full-bodied, upright containers – eight of them. Only three are occupied. Robert jerks away from him to look into one. Wiping away the layer of dust, he sees a slender, dark haired male figure, not so different from himself. In the middle of the container he traces a plague. It simply reads _Arthur – 009_.

Eames looks away. Arthur was Dom’s pet. He was the first android they’d truly believed could generate original dreams. What they found was a malfunction in his hardwires. Dom packed his bag after that, but he insisted they keep the model for future references. Arthur has been collecting dust downstairs for four years now. Dom never talks about his projects anymore, but Eames remembers the day he went to his friend’s house to see that he’d brought his work home with him. Arthur sat in a rocking chair with an infant, rocking her back and forth to sleep. He looked like he belonged there as much as anyone.

He thought his friend was crazy then. He didn’t understand until Robert. Robert to him was something special, a truly unique piece. He’s saved him from one fate at least.

The container opens and a gust of compressed air whizzes by. Robert takes a step back. “Come here, darling. Nothing will hurt. Promise.”

“Why are they here?” He reaches for Arthur.

“Robert, I’ll be back. You’ll wake up. And you’ll come home with me. It’s just like shutting down at night. Like sleep.” He takes a step towards him and gently takes his arm. “And maybe you’ll dream.”

“Of you.” Robert is still staring at Arthur, but letting Eames pull him towards the case. “Will you at least give me a goodnight kiss this time?”

Eames smiles. “Of course.” He maneuvers him around so his back is towards the place on the wall for him. Like a trophy. He slowly backs him towards it, cupping the droid’s face. His feet hit the edge of it and he stumbles back. His face is still composed, a jarring reminder of who and what Robert is. There isn’t a look of panic on his face, even if slight signs of his body say otherwise. They are traits mimicked, not original. He knows this.

There’s a thick cable like the one they use in the lab hanging in the back of the compartment. He reaches around Robert and grabs it. He doesn’t need to look to find the place it goes, it’s seared into his reflexive memory. On the back of his neck, right under his hair line, Eames plugs in the cable and presses a button on the outside with his other hand.

“Goodnight, darling.” He kisses him, lingering for a moment. When he backs away, Robert’s chilling eyes are open, but he’s stopped moving. Gently, he closes his eyelids. “See you when you wake up.” Kisses his cheek and tells himself the day will come when he’ll honor his promise.

_”They’re not real,” Cobb says. “It’s not a real life, Eames. Flipping the computer off is all. They’ll exist one day again or they won’t – because they never really did._

After he closes the glass front to Robert’s compartment, he traces the area where his name will go. A museum piece. Glancing over at Arthur, he tries to imagine Cobb going through the same thing, but Cobb had a family to go home to afterwards.

Now Eames has only his dreams, and the recorded dreams of an android. He tells himself he’ll come back for him. He will.

He just doesn’t believe it yet. There are some things left better to haunt than to actively follow into the dark with the light. He leaves, and locks the door behind him.


End file.
